


Violence is better than Grieving

by quillyx



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), it’s an sbi fic if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 02:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillyx/pseuds/quillyx
Summary: Wilbur died on the 16th of November, and after all this time, Techno still hasn’t gotten an answer.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & Phil Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	Violence is better than Grieving

“Why’d you do it?”

Techno’s hands shook, his insides wound tight, threatening to break at any moment.

“Sorry?” 

Phil knew exactly what his friend was referring to, he knew he owed this conversation to Techno, but his heart still ached. Reuniting with a megalomaniac that had stolen your son’s body—

“What made you kill him?”

Techno recalled countless battles from his youth, he’d seen people of all ages die in the most gruesome of ways. He’d seen lives end, and yet he still laughed his carefree laugh, smiled with his tusks sharper than the blade of his namesake, and yet...

“What are you on about, mate?”

No matter how much Phil knew that he owed Techno an answer, he wasn’t ready. He’ll never be ready.

The truth is, he wasn’t sure himself.

“Wilbur.” Techno says, his voice laced with anger barely subdued. “What made you kill him?” he pressed his fingernails into his skin, piercing under the weight of his balled fists. His eyes laid fixed on the snow-covered ground beneath them. His mind swam, and the scene around him abruptly changed. The ground was broken and cracked, cobblestone littered across the long-dead patches of grass, and abandoned ant hills. The scent of gunpowder filled his nostrils and he carelessly tossed his hair out of his eyes, then _Phil! Oh my god, Phil was here!_ He stood abruptly amongst the rubble for a second, eyes fixated on his old war buddy, his war buddy who he thought was long, long, dead— 

Then there was Wilbur. 

The Wilbur he grew up with, the same person he laughed freely with, time stretching late into the night, when everything was still except for just the two of them. 

The _“Oh my god, you’re having a son?”_ Wilbur. 

_ That Wilbur. _

Then, all too quickly, Wilbur was dead; dead to the hands of the one person who Techno never thought would kill him, not in a million years. In that moment, Techno understood why they would call Phil the Angel of Death. Phil was a man who had taken countless lives, yet never tasted the bitter sting of death himself. It’s not an uncommon occurrence, people becoming fixated on something they could never have.

The Angel of Death does not discriminate. When the time comes for a life to be expended, nothing can stop the Angel of Death. It’s a universal constant, unavoidable, a rule everyone must follow, exception only granted to the Angel of Death himself.

The next few moments were a cacophony of explosions, furious cries, and sorrowful voices lost to the wind. Techno remembers a burning anger, left festering for far too long, finally bubbling over as he lashed out, voices demanding murder no matter the cost. Withers cascaded across the ashes of Manburg, despite it already being rubble. For the first time in way too many years, tears escaped from Techno’s eyes as all he could see was Wilbur, his Wilbur, cold and motionless in his father’s arms. He remembers thinking, _why, why would you do it, Phil? You loved that kid. I know you loved that stupid kid more than life itself. So why? Why did you d_ o it?

He never got an answer. For the longest time, Techno wasn’t sure if he wanted one. He realizes now that he needs one, whether he wants it or not.

Phil was silent, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes lay fixed on the ground, as if they were chained there.

Techno was used to containing his emotions. Most of the time it was anger. He knew how to be levelheaded in battle, despite however much hatred he felt for the other side. 

This, however, was not a battle. This was new territory. Territory, that — quite frankly —Techno would be perfectly fine with never traversing. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his choice to make.

“Tell me,” Techno muttered, his voice shaking, desperately trying to contain the anger that was building dangerously quickly. “Tell me why you did it.”

“Mate...” was all Phil could manage.

“Don’t ’mate’ me,” Techno stewed, letting out a shaky breath. “I want answers, Phil. He was your son. Why’d you kill him?” Techno raised his eyes to meet Phil’s, but his companion stayed fixated on the ground below. 

A beat of silence. 

Phil hadn’t even blinked yet. 

Techno tried to take a deep breath; instead, a subdued sob escaped his lips. He tried to close his eyes, to contain the overwhelming emotions, but the floodgates had opened. He let his head fall into his hands and his shoulders shook silently, tears plunged into the snow below with a soft hiss.

Techno had never been a loud crier. Even when he was a child, he never wanted to draw attention to himself. He would close the door to his room and sit beside his bed, tears falling silently to the floor. The only sound to escape him was the occasional sniffle. Then, he would get up and leave as if nothing happened. 

No one had to know. They couldn’t know. It was unacceptable.

Even Phil had never seen him cry. He so desperately wanted to keep it that way. 

He fought against his body to subdue the shuddering sobs; to dry his eyes, stand up and forget this ever happened. 

He couldn’t. Thoughts of Wilbur plagued his mind and he descended further into sorrow. Sobs wracked his body, his large form shook, despite never being bothered by the cold. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t find the words to say. He felt so small, so _weak_. He was crying in front of Phil, after all.

It was a while before he lifted his head again. Phil had been so quiet, maybe he had left by now. He slowly moved his head to look at his companion, and his eyes widened.

Phil was crying too.

Techno watched in stunned silence as tears ran down Phil’s face, over his countless scars, and eventually into the snow. His hat covered his eyes, his broken wings curled protectively around his body.

The Angel of Death was _crying_.

Techno had so many emotions at once, but above all, he felt pure, red-hot anger. 

“All this time and you didn’t tell me a thing?” Techno started, and then he just couldn’t stop. “ _I’m fine_ , you said, and you would say something about how it was Wilbur’s time anyway. That was a lie, wasn’t it? You chose to kill him, didn’t you? You looked your son in the eyes and you murdered him. You wanted him dead and that was just a convenient way to do it!” Techno spoke between watery sobs. “It was all your own decision! I lost my _brother_ and—“

Techno paused, and the fury subsided for a moment, before solidifying into the heavy, messy type of anger that slipped through the cracks in your facade, and reared its ugly head no matter how hard you tried to keep it inside. It was the kind of anger that is less anger, and more misplaced curiosity that asks, _why, why me, why did it have to be you, what did I do to deserve this?_ The kind of questions that go unanswered for a lifetime. 

“He was like a brother to you, wasn’t he?” Phil spoke softly as his striking blue eyes met Techno’s. A somber smile stretched across his face. 

Phil always managed a smile, no matter how bad things got, Techno always found his friend smiling. That was what Techno could never understand. That stupid smile that never seemed to leave, that smile that hid the emotions he knew Phil felt, the smile that made Techno want to slap Phil so hard it flew off of his face, shake his shoulders and demand to know _why he was smiling at a time like this._

Techno’s expression hardened. 

“ _Shut up.”_ Tears still escaped his eyes. “I’m not finished.”

Phil’s smile dropped. 

_ Thank god. _

“What made you think you had the right to kill someone who was close to so many people? You stabbed him, despite the fact that you loved him, in front of his son, and the kid he called his brother!” Techno’s voice rose with each word, shaking snow off of some of the nearby trees. 

“In front of _me_...” Techno muttered, his voice suddenly quiet and subdued.

“I had to.” Phil’s hands shook, not imperceptible to Techno, and his stomach dropped, realization washed over him as he struggled to find words. 

“I—“ Techno started. 

“You would _never_ know what it’s like, Techno.” Phil continued. “What it’s like to kill thousands of people, people that deserved it for the atrocities they committed, and then being faced with someone _you called your son_ with the same look in their eyes. They all have that _disgusting_ grin, that expression that clearly states they believe what they’re doing is right, and I—“ Phil took a deep breath, although a sob broke into it halfway through. “I couldn’t bear to see Wil like that.”

“ _He was still your son_.” Techno muttered darkly.

“He was a murderer. A terrorist!” Phil cried.

“Yeah? _So are you._ ” Techno said, a little too loudly, and something inside of him broke. He drew his sword with trained swiftness, and swung at Phil’s head with all of his strength.

When Techno opened his eyes, Phil had drawn his own sword to counter the swing, his eyes wide. 

Techno grinned with sick glee. _Now this is more familiar._

He didn’t hesitate to bring his blade up again, and mock swing it before he switched to his crossbow effortlessly, and shot an arrow.

Phil jumped back instinctively, but the arrow still plunged into his arm with a sickening noise. He hissed in pain, instantly pulling it from his arm and tossing it to the ground.

Upon seeing the red-stained snow, Techno let out a low chuckle, his eyes blazing with only slightly satiated bloodlust. 

Phil instinctively counter-attacked with a shot from his own bow, before he realized, _wait, shit, that’s Techno. I shouldn’t be hurting him._

The arrow pierced Techno’s right side, though only by a little bit. Phil rushed toward his friend with well-trained aptitude, concern running through his veins. 

Blood stained the bark of a nearby tree as Techno spun around and connected his fist to Phil’s face, growling.

Phil let out a surprised grunt before falling onto his left arm, his body twisting awkwardly. He quickly got to his feet, wiping blood from his nose. 

“Techno!” he cried out, his voice shaking from the cold. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“ _Shut up._ Just be quiet.” Techno spat, aiming his blade at Phil in another attack. 

Phil pivoted to the side easily, grabbing Techno’s wrist and harshly digging his knee into his friend’s back. 

Techno collapsed to the ground without much of a fight, as if he wanted to be defeated. 

“That...” Phil breathed, panting. “I don’t know what the _fuck_ that was, Techno, but it wasn’t you.” 

A beat of silence. 

“First of all, you never leave your left side open like that, what the hell was that? Two, you just fuckin’ _shot me!”_

“I know.” Techno mumbled, his voice muffled by the snow. 

“You clearly weren’t focusing on fighting me, ‘cause that was just pathetic.” Phil said, as if Techno was an open book. “So what was distracting you?”

“I don’t get it.” Techno ignored Phil’s words, pulling his face out of the snow and shaking his damp hair out of his eyes. “Why did you... Why didn’t you yell back at me?” 

Phil removed his knee from Techno’s back, offering his hand to his best friend. Techno took it, and Phil helped him up. 

“I figured it would be best to let you vent your anger.” Phil said cooly. “So I let you yell at me.” Phil sighed. “It is understandable.” 

Techno stood quietly, his lips pressed together.

“What’s _not understandable_ ,” Phil continued, “Is you suddenly trying to fuckin’ fight me. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to spar a little, since that’s how you usually let out your anger. But then I saw you carelessly attacking as if you didn’t care what happened to me or yourself. Technoblade, even when you were six years old you wouldn’t leave your left side unguarded like that. So I had to put a stop to it.”

Techno sighed.

“I’m so sorry, Phil.” 

“Aww, m—“

“No, I really screwed up. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I know it’s a touchy subject yet I still started screamin’ atcha.” Techno cast his eyes to the ground, and another pang of guilt wracked his body as he saw the dark red spot in the snow.

“No,” Phil countered. “I’m sorry. I owed you an answer earlier. Way earlier. I just... didn’t even know, myself, you know?” he laughed dryly.

Techno nodded in wordless understanding.

“Wilbur... he was Fundy’s dad, and he was like a brother to Tommy...” Phil trailed off, considering his next words carefully. “...and you.” 

Techno’s breath hitched, but he nodded.

The two soldier friends shared a moment of silence, both shivering from the cold.

“I shouldn’t have killed him.” Phil said, tears snaking down his face once more.

Techno awkwardly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his friend, who just now realized they were both freezing cold.

“Let’s go in. We can talk about it over some — preferably warm — tea.”

“Alright.” Techno said, opening the door. “and.. i’ll help you with that arrow wound.” He laughed quietly.

“Oh don’t worry about it, you big softy.” 

“Great, now you’re going to make fun of me.” Techno said with mock sadness. 

“It’s payback for shooting me.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this as a means of coping with no canon grieving phil or techno i hate it here


End file.
